


you and me, forevermore

by MelikaElena



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaElena/pseuds/MelikaElena
Summary: There’s no more Ransom & Holster and there hasn’t been for a long time.There’s just Justin, who ended up going to med school across the country and starting a new life there, and there’s Adam, who always meant to follow until it soon became clear that Justin had an entire life there— classmates, friends, girlfriend— and he didn’t need him anymore. And what was Holster supposed to do, especially when he realized he was in love with him? And that Ransom didn’t love him back that way?They fall out of touch and Holster, the only one who really notices, does nothing to fix it.He lets Ransom go.Fast forward to several years later when Justin wakes up and doesn't understand how his life got to be so messed up. So he reaches out to the one person who always knew him best, hoping he can help him understand how it all went wrong.A story of letting go and coming back together.
Relationships: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	you and me, forevermore

**Author's Note:**

> Blame this sappy mess on a Cancer rising (me) listening to music by a Cancer sun (Ariana Grande) and a Cancer moon (Taylor Swift) during the Full Moon in Cancer (the worst). Whoops.
> 
> If I had the energy, I could've easily stretched this thing out to be a lot longer, but I wanted to post it for the new year, so we'll all just have to make do with this, now won't we??

“Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.” - _New Year’s Day,_ Taylor Swift

The future manifested in weird ways. It was unpredictable; that’s what made it the future. And Holster was-- contrary to what some people believed-- good at rolling with the punches. Sure, he complained a lot along the way, but at the end of the day he put his head down and did what needed to be done to get to where he needed to be. And it was evident, probably about halfway through his time at Samwell (although that seemed to be a conservative estimate, as it was true a lot sooner), that where he needed to be was with Ransom. 

At first, it was a teammate thing, right? A friend thing. No one else could get Ransom out of Coral Reef mode like him. No one else understood Ransom’s neuroses, his flash card system, his exact ice cream sundae toppings and ratio. He had his back. They were teammates, then best friends, then roommates, each label piling up on each other like another line of a vow. 

When they left Samwell, it was no different. Do the consulting thing together in Boston, live in a sick house with Lardo and Shitty. This adult thing? Weird as hell, but a breeze. Anything felt conquerable with Ransom by his side. And when Ransom decided, a couple years later, that he did want to try at med school after all, Holster had his back. Helped him through his MCAT studies, his application process, all of it. Sure, it was a bummer when the best school Ransom got into was on the other side of the country-- UC San Francisco, to be exact-- but it had the best financial aid package, and it’s what Ransom needed to do. They would make it work. Ransom would go, grind it out alone for a year, and Holster would come join him for his second year and beyond. Getting a job in consulting-- so close to Silicon Valley-- didn’t pose a problem, but Holster had Adult Things to worry about, like leaving a company with his sizeable 401k fully-vested, so they agreed: one year apart to do what they needed to do, and then they would be together. A challenge, but doable. 

The future manifested in weird ways. 

Ransom moved to San Francisco and began classes, and Holster stayed behind, and for the first couple months, it was fine. Ransom’s texts were sporadic and FaceTiming with the three hour time difference was the worst, but they managed it. Holster got that med school was like, undergrad but times a thousand. He’d watched every season of _Grey’s Anatomy_ (and _Private Practice_ ), after all. Ransom tried his best, and they limped to Christmas break, where Holster felt like he could finally breathe when he saw Ransom in-person again. 

It was spring semester where everything fell apart, where Ransom became even more obsessed with his grades and which research internship he could procure that summer and essentially fell off the grid. Holster, knee-deep in a work project, didn’t notice at first but once he emerged a few weeks later from what was essentially a work bender (disgusting, wouldn’t recommend) he realized he and Ransom hadn’t texted in over a week, and FaceTimed in nearly a month. 

So he tried to get them back on track, but trying to wrangle a stressed, ambitious Ransom from across the country wasn’t the same as sticking his head in Ransom’s bunk in the Attic and making him listen. 

What really pissed him off, though, wasn’t that Ransom was too busy with schoolwork for him. It was when he’d log on and see Ransom’s Instagram or Twitter and would see his posts about him out with friends. Sometimes they were at academic mixers, but more often than not they were at bars, in apartments, out exploring the area. Any free time Ransom had… he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give to Holster. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when they were finally FaceTiming, after weeks of missed connections, and Ransom had to cut the conversation short because he had a date. 

“Yeah,” Ransom said, his face lit, “it’s with this really cool girl who wants to go into neuro-surgery, how sick is that? Her name’s Mia, and--” 

Something Holster didn’t realize he had-- something he didn’t realize he ever felt-- shriveled in his chest. “You’re blowing me off,” he said flatly, in disbelief, “for a _date_?” 

Ransom frowned. “I’m not blowing you off,” he said. “We’re talking right now, aren’t we? I just have a hard cut-off time.” 

They’d never had those before. 

Holster forced himself to smile. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “No problem.” 

They hung up shortly after, and Holster felt like he was drunk, even though he was perfectly sober. The room was spinning, and he had to take slow, long breaths to try and calm down, and that’s when he realized-- he was in love with Ransom. He had been for a while, maybe nearly as long as they’d known each other. And not only did Ransom not feel that way about him, but he barely cared if Holster was in his life anymore at all. It was so clear-- the Instagram pictures, the dating-- hell, Holster hadn’t even heard if Ransom had had any panic attacks recently, and of course he didn’t want Ransom to suffer like that, but if Holster wasn’t Ransom’s teammate, or roommate, or even, it seemed, his friend, then what was he? 

As an experiment, Holster decided to see when the next time Ransom would reach out to him would be. 

He got a text two weeks later, a “long time no talk let’s FT soon!!!!!” and when Holster responded to set something up, Ransom took another week to respond. And then so it went until eventually, there was nothing at all. 

There was no mention of Holster moving to San Francisco, and he never bothered bringing it up. 

_It’s for the best_ , Holster thought miserably one summer night, Shitty and Lardo on each side of him. They knew what he’d been going through. _A clean break. Who stays best friends with their college friends, anyway_? Everything hurt and in the summer heat he still felt cold. But it needed to be done; he needed to let Ransom go. So he did. 

* * *

Years went by. Justin graduated with honors, and decided to go into general surgery. Picking a specialty was too difficult (his pro-con lists were, ultimately, inconclusive) and it was fun to be a jack-of-all-trades of sorts. He got to see all kinds of cases and if they needed to be more specialized, so be it. 

He and Mia had been in a steady relationship since their first date, and had lived together for the past couple years. They worked at different hospitals, but Mia kind of liked having that separation, anyway. She was extremely independent, and Ransom loved that about her, especially since their schedules were so chaotic. 

He woke up one summer morning and when he checked his phone he received a calendar notification telling him that it was Adam Birkholtz-- Holster’s-- birthday. He opened his phone and scrolled to their text chain. He shot off a “Happy Birthday” text and then realized that the last message between them was for Justin’s birthday, in March. Damn, it had been too long. When was the last time he’d caught up with Holster, anyway? 

Justin frowned, scrolling up. There was some sporadic texts-- one at Christmas, Holster asking if Justin was going to Toronto for the holidays (he wasn’t, he spent it with Mia and her family in Houston). Justin sent Holster a picture of himself at Niagara Falls during one trip back home, and Holster had responded with a thumbs up emoji, which, huh, was a little cold for him. And then before that, it was just birthday texts and the occasional holiday acknowledgment. Otherwise, anything Justin knew about Holster’s life came from the still semi-active SMH Group Chat. 

He almost turned in bed to ask Mia when the last time they saw Holster, but he turned and realized she’d been gone for hours now. Today was a big surgery day for her. He’d ask her at dinner tonight. Well, depending on how his day went. 

Justin stumbled to the kitchen, struck with inspiration that maybe he’d make a pasta, kale, and sausage meal for dinner. That sounded good. He opened up the fridge and there was-- nothing in there. Some lemon juice and moldy takeout. It hadn’t been that long since he’d gone grocery shopping, was it? And what about Mia? 

In a little bit of a daze, Justin went through his routine, all the while his mind racing. When was the last time he and _Mia_ actually saw each other? When was the last time they sat down to dinner or cuddled on the couch or went on a date? When was the last time they’d had sex that wasn’t just quick fumbling in a shared shower or during a holiday vacation? 

His day at work went well-- almost too smoothly, in fact. Maybe that was a good thing, especially since he couldn’t focus. He kept thinking about Mia, kept thinking about Holster, kept thinking about his quiet apartment and his empty fridge and what his life outside of work looked like. He was one of the most respected residents of the hospital, and he’d worked hard to make it that way, but for the first time, that didn’t make him feel the same sort of pride that he’d always felt. Instead, he just felt kind of empty. 

During his lunch break, he checked his phone. Three hours later, Holster texted him back: “thx!” 

That was it? Not bothering to ask him how he was, or asking them to catch up, or-- 

Justin was glad he was already sitting down, because he felt like a panic attack was coming on. Someone touched his arm gently. He looked up into the face of his colleague, Leigh. “Are you okay, Justin?” She asked. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he managed. He counted his breaths. “Just need a minute.” 

She looked at him, a little worried. “Okay,” she said, but she continued to watch him, even once he calmed down enough to pick at his lunch again. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to be home, to see Mia. He needed a hug, he needed someone to look at him and tell him that his life was wonderful, that everything was fine, that this was just an off-day. 

A vision of Holster flashed in his mind-- of Holster from their Samwell days, guiding him through a panic attack, getting him a cup of tea, rubbing his back with his large hand and murmuring that he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere, to keep working through his anxiety. 

That in mind, Justin suddenly felt a lot better. Maybe after he talked to Mia, he’d call Holster, too. For old times’ sake. 

But that night, he didn’t see Mia, who when he texted her, told him that her surgery had complications and she needed to stay overnight to monitor her patient. “I’ll see you around,” is what she said, and suddenly Justin knew, immediately and completely, that their relationship was over. That it had been, for some time, and what they were was glorified roommates, two ships who shared a harbor, but had no clue what the other did beyond that. 

Justin felt a panic attack come on, and this time he wasn’t able to hold it back, he let it come and sweep him away. When he emerged, he felt wrung out and exhausted, and yet he couldn’t find it in him to sleep. Everything became crystal clear in a way that it hadn’t been in a long time, and the next day, he did something he hadn’t done in a very long time: he called out sick. His supervisor, Sophie, was sympathetic, and said she’d heard from Leigh that he hadn’t been feeling well at lunch. Fucking workplace, hospital gossip ( _Grey’s Anatomy_ definitely got that part right) but at least it was working in his favor this time. 

When Mia came home around mid-afternoon, Justin was waiting for her. 

“Justin!” she said, looking shocked to see him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” 

“I am,” Justin said. “I’m not feeling well.” 

Mia’s brow creased. “What’s wrong?” She said, posture straightening, already going into doctor mode. 

Justin sighed. “I’m fine,” he said. “Medically-speaking.” 

“I don’t understand,” Mia said. “Justin, what’s going on?” 

“We’re… we’re not working anymore, are we?” He said. “As a couple.” 

Mia was quiet. “No,” she said finally. “We aren’t.” 

Justin nodded, feeling numb. “Okay,” he said. “I-- I’m going to figure something out. I’ll call the landlord. I’ll be out by the end of the week, okay?” 

“Justin,” Mia said helplessly. “You don’t need to leave so quickly. It’s okay. We can share the apartment a little longer.” 

“Because neither of us are ever here at the same time?” Justin shook his head. “I don’t think that makes it any better, Mia.” 

Mia bit her lip. “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to go stay at my sister’s for tonight, though, okay? I think we need some space right now.” 

Justin almost snorted. Space was the crux of their problem, but maybe even that wasn’t true. Maybe the problem was that neither had even noticed the space-- or cared. That made him feel unspeakably sad. “Sounds good,” he said tiredly. 

Mia went to pack a duffle bag, pausing before she left to give Justin a kiss on the cheek. “We had a good run,” she said quietly. “And I care about you a lot, Justin. It just-- we just weren’t meant for forever.” 

Justin nodded, throat too tight to speak, and she gave him a sad quirk of her lips as she left. Once he couldn’t hear her shoes clicking down the hall anymore, he allowed himself to give in and cry. Even if their relationship had been over emotionally for a while, they had been together for years, and their break-up, plus his revelations about his life, were too much, all at once.

How had everything gone so off course? How had it come to this, crying in his empty apartment after ending a lack-luster relationship that he hadn’t even noticed imploding? How had he not realized how draining and empty his job, consuming as it was, made him? 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was reaching for his phone, and dialing a familiar number. He needed to talk to someone who had always understood in him, who had seen him at his absolute worst. He needed someone to call him back to himself. 

“... Hello?” 

“Holster?” Justin croaked. “It’s me. Ransom.” 

* * *

Adam had a good life, he thought. He couldn’t complain, anyway (although he did, and loudly, but it was about little stuff, like moles in his backyard and his dog continuing to chase squirrels and track mud into the house). 

He had a steady job. He wasn’t passionate about it, but that was never a requirement for him, anyway-- his job has never been, and never will be, his entire life. It just paid his bills and let him live the rest of his life the way he wanted to. He owned a small house, adopted a dog, and had some friends. He played in an intramural hockey league and kept in touch with any friends who didn’t live nearby (which, at this point, was a lot of them). If he conveniently had to ignore the Ransom-shaped hole in his life, so be it. He’d gotten used to it by now.

So when he, the day after his birthday, got a call from a panicking, upset Justin Oluransi, to say he was thrown for a loop was an understatement. 

When he saw who was calling, he almost didn’t answer the phone. Sure, Justin had wished him happy birthday the day before, but it was perfunctory. It meant nothing, really. But before he comprehended what he was doing, he’d already picked up and answered, taken aback when he heard how wrecked Justin sounded. 

“Holster?” Justin said. “It’s me. Ransom.” 

“Justin,” Adam said, stunned, because Ransom was his best friend. Justin, the man on the other line, was a stranger. 

A pause. “Yeah,” he said. “Justin.” 

“What’s wrong?” Adam said, powering forward. Somehow, this familiar panic helped calm _him_ down, center him. Pulling Justin back from the brink was almost normal, even though it’s been years since they were kids at Samwell, years since they were Ransom&Holster. 

Justin started to cry anew then, and Adam pieced together that he’d just broken up with his girlfriend, Mia, and it led him to have some existential crisis about his job and his life. “I don’t know what happened?” Justin said. “How did everything get so fucked up?” 

Jesus, this was what fucking happened when he wasn’t around to keep Justin calm, Adam thought irritably, before shoving that thought down. He hadn’t been around in a while. Justin wasn’t his concern anymore. They weren’t friends, were barely acquaintances. 

“What do I do, Adam?” Justin said quietly, picking up on Adam’s intentional use of their birth names. “Where do I go from here?” 

It was everything that Adam’d wanted to hear, everything his petty, vindictive, aching heart longed for, especially when it was freshly broken. But the reality? Wasn’t as satisfying as Adam had hoped it’d be. What could Adam do, from where he was now? What did Justin want from him? 

Before he knew what he was about, Adam heard himself saying, calmer than he felt, “Pack a bag. Take a leave of absence from work. Come stay with me for a bit-- I have the room.” 

What. The _fuck_ was he doing. He’d never been a masochist, and he had no idea why he felt compelled to be one now. 

When Justin accepted, and they hashed out the details, Adam went to go get himself a drink. He would need one, to face being stuck with living with Justin Oluransi, the only person he’d ever been in love with. Adam imagined laying down brick and mortar around his heart, building an impenetrable fortress that Justin could never again breach-- but then he snorted into his beer. He’d been reading too many romances lately. Justin would be here a week or two and Adam would fix him up and send him back to California and that would be that. 

He wouldn’t hope for anything else. 

* * *

  
  


When Adam made his offer, Justin nearly protested-- he was an adult, they had responsibilities now-- but he paused. Responsibilities to what? And when did he put his duty to a life he hated over Holster-- _Holster_? 

Maybe that was part of the problem, part of the answers he was seeking about his life. When was the last time he even _saw_ Holster? 

_Holtzy,_ he wanted to whimper into the phone, _What happened to us?_

How had he not realized that he didn’t know when the last time he saw his best friend was? Or rather, how had he not realized that he didn’t even _have_ a best friend anymore? 

But he said none of that. He said, “Okay,” and then they went over all of the details. Once they hung up, Justin called Sophie at the hospital and let he know he needed some time off. He was expecting a fight, but miraculously, he got the time he needed and more-- as much as he needed. Sophie even said that she was glad he was taking the time off. That she’d been worried about him, even longer than just that day. That Justin deserved it. 

When he got off the phone with her, he began to cry again. 

* * *

The irony was this: Justin and Adam had lived on the same coast for a few years now. Adam got a job in the Seattle area and moved when Justin had just finished up his internship. Adam visited Justin once since he moved, a brief weekend stint, and Justin never visited Adam at all. He thought about that as he landed and was ashamed. 

At the airport, Adam picked him up in a truck and for a moment Justin missed the old jeep. In the backseat was a golden retriever, and Justin felt stunned that he didn’t even know that Adam _had_ a dog. 

“Her name is Chara,” Adam said. “I got her a few months ago.” 

“ _Chara?”_ Justin exclaimed. “You named her after a _Bruin_?” 

“Shitty named her,” Adam said defensively. “And it fits.” 

It did, Justin had to admit, and he was reminded of one time when he and Adam were drunk their senior year at Samwell and they were talking about their future-- where they’d live, what they’d do, the dogs they’d adopt. It seemed like Holster-- _Adam_ \-- was living that life for the both of them. 

Adam had a house on Bainbridge Island, and he explained to Justin as they drove that he only had to go into the office three days a week, Tuesday through Thursday, so the commute wasn’t that bad, actually. And he found the ferry rides relaxing. 

“Do you need me to do anything?” Justin asked. “Like, take care of Chara while you’re gone?” 

Adam looked at him in surprise. “If you want,” he said. “I have a walker come around lunch time, but I can cancel for as long as you’re here?” 

Justin nodded eagerly. Dog time sounded perfect, and plus, he wanted to do something for Adam, who took him in, no questions asked. “Absolutely,” he said. 

Adam’s house was beautiful. It was small and Adam explained it had been a fixer-upper and he’d gotten it for a steal, considering the property. He’d been renovating it gradually over the last few years, and it was perfect. He’d added a deck where he could see the water and the mountains, and he was considering adding a sun room in a different part of the house for the winter-time. 

Things weren’t easy between them-- it was soon clear, if it wasn’t before, that they were essentially strangers to each other. But soon they were easily making their way around each other in the small, updated kitchen, and it was like being on the ice again, or even that first house in Boston, navigating around each other like nothing. Getting lost in each other’s orbits was always the easy part. 

They kept things light for the first week that Justin was there (Adam had insisted Justin could stay as long as he wanted, and Justin had only booked a one-way in his hurry). They caught up on SMH people, and Adam’s work, and some of the weirder patient cases that Justin had seen, and nothing about their broken friendship. But quickly, they settled into a routine, where during the day Adam worked and Justin occupied Chara and caught up on medical journals and at night they’d make dinner and watch hockey games or go onto the deck and drink or smoke a little weed. On the weekends, they went on long walks and hikes with Chara, and Justin even participated occasionally in Adam’s hockey league. 

With each day, Justin felt lighter and lighter. He missed work, missed medicine, but he didn’t miss the back-breaking pace of it-- a lot of which, he’d realized, he’d been setting himself-- and he didn’t miss Mia. 

He and Adam talked about it one night, the gradual dissolution of his and Mia’s relationship. 

“I feel like I’ve been asleep for a long time,” Justin said. “And I woke up one day and didn’t know where I was, if that makes sense. Nothing felt familiar. I felt like a stranger in my own life.” 

Adam had looked at him for a long time, more still and quiet than Justin had ever seen him. “I’m glad you listened,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” 

Justin blinked. “What?” He said. Nothing about what he did was admirable. Hadn’t Adam been listening? 

“You could’ve ignored it,” Adam elaborated. “Chalked it up to having an off day. Kept your head down and kept going. But you listened to your instincts and you made changes to your life once you realized it wasn’t what you wanted.” He shook his head at Justin’s protests. “Not everyone would’ve done the same. Not everyone _could’ve_ done the same,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” 

Justin felt himself flushing under Adam’s praise. “Thank you,” he said. “That-- that means a lot.” 

Adam flashed him a smile and they let the conversation settle, and Justin tilted his head back, looking at the stars, feeling like somehow, inexplicably, he’d gotten a second chance. 

* * *

One week turned into two, turned into three, and before Adam and Justin knew it, Justin had been with him and Chara for six weeks. If it had been anyone else, Adam would’ve been itching under his skin, would’ve wanted them out ages ago, but it was Justin, who fit into his life there as though he’d always been, and didn’t it kill him to admit that to himself, after weeks of keeping that thought hidden, far away from his poor, stupid heart? 

One night Justin turned to him. “I should be heading back,” he said. 

Adam almost asked, reflexively, _head back where?_ But he caught himself in time. He nodded, trying to keep his cool. “I understand,” he said. 

Justin looked at him, a bit tentatively. Even six weeks together, he still did that, as though Adam would turn him away in any capacity. “It’s been good,” he said, although his tone hinted that it was more than just that. “Being here. I wouldn’t have stayed so long, but the weeks passed so quickly. I lost track of time.” 

This, Adam could be genuine in. “I did, too,” he admitted. “It’s been good… having you here.” 

“Thank you,” Justin said sincerely. “I needed this more than I can say. And I know that--” he cut himself off. Changed gears. Tried again. “If we were back east,” he said, trying for a much more jovial tone, “we’d be getting ready to head to Niagara Falls. Remember those trips?” 

But Adam wasn’t in the mood tonight, to pretend. “I remember,” he said quietly. Even though they weren’t smoking or drinking he still found the courage to say: “I remember everything.” 

A pause. “ _Holtzy_ \--” Justin croaked. 

At this name Adam stood up, shook his head. “We aren’t them anymore, Justin,” he said, and it broke his own heart to say it out loud. The entire time Justin had been there, they stayed away from hockey nicknames, an unspoken promise to keep the peace, but it was clear that was over now.

Justin looked at him, stricken, and Adam knew he was remembering hearing Jack call him “Holster” just the other day while Skyping, so he knew it wasn’t that Adam wasn’t Holster, it’s just that _they_ weren’t Ransom&Holster anymore. Not to each other. “We can’t go back.” 

“I don’t need to go back,” Justin pleaded. “I just miss us.” 

“You didn’t miss us years ago,” Adam spat out. “You didn’t even notice.”

“I was busy, Adam,” Justin yelled, standing up as well. “I was in med school, that was my main priority, you _know that_!” 

Everything was finally being blown wide open, as it should’ve been weeks ago, years ago, even. Good. Adam was primed and ready for this fight.

“You think I didn’t know that and respected that?” Adam said. “Christ, Justin,” he cursed, turning away for a moment, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his temples. “I never expected to be your first priority,” he said quietly. “Or your second or hell, even your third. But I wanted to be— _a_ priority. Considered, even. But I wasn’t. And why the hell would I fight for someone who wasn’t gonna fight for me?” 

Justin was crying silently, big soundless tears rolling down his face. “God,” he gasped brokenly, finally understanding the enormity of what had been done. He sat down, the fight in him all gone. “You must hate me.”

“It would be easier if I did,” Adam said. “It would be easier if I could.” He looked at Justin, and said simply, “But I don’t think my heart knows how to do anything but love you.” 

Justin’s eyes widened, and Adam knew he’d understood. “Adam—“ he rasped. 

“It’s like,” Adam said, shaking his head in exasperation at himself, ignoring Justin’s interjection. “The earth is round, the moon pulls the tide, Adam Birkholtz loves Justin Oluransi. It’s just fact. I’ve tried to change it, and it can’t be done. I’ve accepted it and I don’t resent you for it, not anymore. But I can’t go back, Justin. I’ve spent too long trying to move forward without you, and I know that this—“ he swept an arm out, indicating their little life here, “is all temporary. Soon you’ll be back in California. I'll be here. And I need to be able to keep moving even after you’re gone.” He sat back down and looked at Justin in the eyes. “So I need Ransom&Holster to stay where they are— in the past— because they have no place here in the present anymore. Ok, Justin?” 

Justin nodded, reluctantly. “Okay,” he whispered.

Adam nodded back in a decidedly more decisive fashion. “Okay,” he said. His heart was beating loudly, coming down on the adrenaline. He was determined to keep powering through this confession, this fight, this emotional catharsis until they could go back to ignoring it all again. “I have an early day tomorrow, so I’m going to head to bed. Good night.”

Justin made flight reservations for that weekend, and they moved around each other in a ginger fashion that echoed when Justin first came to stay, and while part of Adam’s heart ached at the distance, he knew that it was for the best. 

As Adam put the car in park at the airport to drop Justin off, the latter turned to him and said, seriously, “I don’t want to lose touch again,” he said. “I know that it was my fault, and I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again, but-- if you don’t want to--” 

Adam shrugged, trying not to get his hopes up. “You can,” he said. “Call me. Or text me. Christ, you spent six weeks living with me, Justin.” 

Justin was quiet. “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said. “I don’t want this to all have been some blip. I want to continue this. Okay?” 

Adam bit his lip. “Okay,” he said. “Sure. We can try it.” 

Justin gave him that mega-watt smile, dimples and all, and Adam felt something in him crack open at the sight of it. “I’m going to miss you, Adam,” he said. 

Adam could give him this. “I’m going to miss you, too,” he admitted, and if it was hard to pull away from their hug, well, who could blame him? 

After he’d gone, Adam couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed that his late-night confession was never brought up again. 

* * *

Being back in California was...strange. While Justin was gone, he’d arranged with a moving and packing company to take care of his stuff and put it into storage so that Mia wouldn’t have to deal with it, and he was able to easily rent an Air BnB as he looked for apartments. But the more he looked, the more lackluster he felt. Nothing felt right or looked right or was in his price range, quite frankly. 

He longed for Adam and his house and Chara and their life together. He told himself that it was because it was essentially a long vacation, a sabbatical, and once he settled back into work everything would be fine. 

Everyone was glad to see him, and the work was engaging as ever. He’d talked to Sophie about better managing his schedule so he wouldn’t be so burnt out, and how he could better delegate tasks to the interns below him-- he had definitely been under-utilizing them, and they were there to learn. He’d even, with Sophie’s gentle encouragement, looked into getting a therapist. 

Still, with all of that, while Justin was certainly happier, certainly less burnt out, he felt like something was missing. And he was scared that he knew the answer but that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

But he texted Adam nearly every day, and they fell into a weekly FaceTime appointment, where Justin could say hello to Chara and Adam would turn the camera so he could see the sun setting on the water, and Justin _ached._

Before he knew it, it was the holidays, and he looked forward to going back to Toronto for a week-- he loved holidays at home and he’d also gotten into the habit, while staying at Adam’s, of calling his parents and sisters once every other week to catch up. He’d been neglecting a lot of relationships in his life, it seemed. 

Adam was in Buffalo, and there was something comforting about knowing that for sure, and it almost felt like they were back at Samwell again as they texted back and forth, complaining about an annoying family member, or snapping pictures of their favorite foods that they’d missed. Justin remembered that Adam had come home with him for the holidays before, trying to keep all of his relatives straight. 

Justin wished Adam was there with him now but-- well, that was a common feeling, honestly. Especially lately. 

His relatives certainly weren’t helping that feeling. It seemed like they were _constantly_ asking about Adam. How was he, they missed him, they’d been missing him for years, and how come Justin didn’t bring him home? 

His sister Jemma plopped down next to him one night. “So can we finally talk about Adam?” She asked. “Mom and Dad made us promise not to ask you about your break-up but it’s fine because a) it was years ago, and b) you’re back together now, right?” 

Justin sputtered. “What?” He said. “Jemma, we grew apart, we didn’t break-up. And we’ve never been… together… in that way.” 

She gave him an unimpressed look. “You don’t need to lie,” she said. “No one wanted to force the issue, but we don’t care that you’re bi, Justin. Or however you identify. We love Adam.” She paused. “Was it… was it _his_ family? I know he’s from _Buffalo_ , and--” 

Justin shook his head, feeling a headache come on. “I thought you guys liked Mia,” he said, weakly.

Jemma shrugged. “We liked her just fine,” she said. “I mean, we were a little surprised by how quickly you moved on from Adam-- we thought she was just a rebound. But we were sad to hear about your break-up, of course.” 

Of course. The headache was growing stronger. “She wasn’t a rebound, Jem!” He burst out. “Adam and I were never together, and we never will be, because I was too fucking stupid to realize how in love with me he was.” He quieted. “How in love with him I was.” He whispered. “How in love with him I _am_.” 

Jemma gaped at him. “Do you mean to tell me you never figured it out?” She nearly screeched. “ _JUSTIN,_ I’ve told people you were _smart!_ ” 

“I--” Justin gaped. He’d largely been trying not to think about Adam’s declaration from the months before and they’d completely ignored it because he didn’t know how to deal with it (story of his fucking life, he thought viciously in self-disgust) but now--

“Go tell him, you idiot!” Jemma yelled, correctly guessing the cause of his current distress. 

Soon, the rest of his family caught wind of what was happening and there was a lot of chaos and confusion as everyone yelled at Justin to go tell Adam how he felt. 

“A grand gesture!” His mother and aunties yelled. “The bigger, the better!” 

“Like all of those movies he likes to watch so much,” his father said, remembering seeing an emotional Adam watch _When Harry Met Sally_ when it was on TV for the hundredth time. 

“Okay, okay!” Justin said, frantically trying to change his flight on his phone. “I’m going!” 

Adam never spent New Year’s in Buffalo-- he’d always told Justin it depressed him, and Justin knew when he was going back to Seattle, anyway. In a fit of romanticism, Justin changed his flight so he’d get into Seattle on New Year’s Eve. 

Things between him and Adam had been good over the past few months, them slowly re-learning their friendship first in-person and then over distance, but this would be the equivalent of flinging them over the precipice. Adam had said he loved Justin, but that could no longer be true, or he could only love him platonically now. 

But Adam had always been brave for him, Justin thought. He let Justin go, after all, and that was a selfless, brave act in and of itself. It was time to be brave for him, now. 

* * *

When Justin saw the Seattle skyline outside of his window, when he saw Mt. Rainier and the trees and the water and the sky, it felt like a homecoming, and in his heart, he knew it was. 

When Justin’s rental car pulled up to the house, the little house with the porch and the dog and its owner, Justin felt his heart swell. This was home. This was where he and Adam repaired their friendship. This was where he fell in love with Adam. Most importantly, this was where Adam was, and thus, his heart. Adam was who he loved, who he’d always loved, in some way or another, as if he was an extension of himself, his other half. And yes, he knew, love shouldn’t be like that, he should be his own whole person and he was. He'd done that, he’d lived that. He could be that— but he also knew he was just better with Adam. They were better together. It was like, the planets rotated the sun, 1+1=2, Adam Birkholtz and Justin Olursansi were at their best together, as a team. It’s just a fact. They’d tried to fight it, and it only made them miserable. 

To his disappointment, the house looked empty, the windows dark, so he waited outside on the deck because the car, at least, was in the driveway. Justin didn’t want to give himself away, especially if Adam was just taking Chara for a walk before the fireworks started, so he settled in to wait. If Adam wasn’t back in a half-hour, then he’d reach out. 

But his hunch was right, and when Adam came up the driveway and saw him on the deck, he froze, shocked, even as Chara went wild, leash slipping through his fingers so she could bound up to Justin and lick him all over, begging for hugs and pets and treats. 

“Justin,” Adam said, shocked, as Chara trotted back and settled at his feet, tail wagging in pleasure. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to tell you,” Justin said, descending the deck steps so he could be face-to-face with Adam, voice already cracking with emotion, “that I know we can’t go back.” He was thinking of the night of their fight on this deck, and given the way Adam’s face darkened, he remembered, too, all too well. “I don’t even want to, because going back means being without you. Because going back means being the guy who let you slip away, and I don't want to be him anymore. He was a fool, self-centered and blind. I don’t want to go back. What I want to do is to go forward, because I finally know what I want my future to look like and it’s you.” 

Adam remained motionless, but his eyes were glistening. “ _Justin_ ,” he said hoarsely. 

Justin shook his head, indicating he wasn’t done yet. “I’m sorry I lost sight of that, lost sight of what I knew so clearly in college: that it’s always been you and it should always be you. And maybe this is too much too soon-- or maybe, too little, too late-- but I wanted you to know that if you took a chance on me again, on us, that you, and the life we’d build together, would be my priority. My life in California isn’t important. It never has been, not in a way that’s real. I was so focused on dumb shit that it was like emerging from a nightmare when I finally realized what had happened, what I’d done-- what I’d ruined. And even if you don’t want to be with me, or forgive me, and if you want to move on without me—“ Justin swallowed. “I respect that. But I knew that _I_ couldn’t move forward without letting you know, without trying, just once.”

“Justin,” Adam repeated, looking devastated. He was crying now, they both were, absolute messes as fireworks lit up around them. Justin bit his lip, fearing the worst as Adam composed himself enough to try and speak again. He opened his mouth, and spoke his answer: “ _Ransom_.” 

Ransom flew into his arms then, kissing him desperately, and it was like being on the ice for a celly, like hearing the roar of Niagara Falls, like knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be. 

“I love you,” Ransom whispered. “Adam-- Holster, I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too, Rans,” Holster said. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“Please don’t make me,” Ransom responded. “I was gonna take this at whatever pace you want, but if you want me here, I’m here. It’s all I want.”

“Then be here,” Holster pleaded. “We can work out the rest. But be here, in this house, with me and Chara.” 

“The way it should’ve been,” Ransom said, a little sadly, thinking of all the years wasted. 

Holster nudged their foreheads together, and gave Ransom an encouraging smile. 

“The way it’s gonna be,” Holster said softly, with so much certainty that all Ransom could think of were the years to come. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year :)


End file.
